


Late in the Night

by chthonicAsylum (CrazeeCraze)



Series: Hand in Hand [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cookies, Frisk Uses Sign Language, Frisk's Pronouns are They/Them, Gen, Sans Has Issues, Selectively Mute Frisk, very brief alcohol reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazeeCraze/pseuds/chthonicAsylum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans catches sight of something he wishes he could forget in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Third in my little Gaster+Frisk centric oneshots. I needed a bit more Sans angst in my life so I wrote some. Like always, my oneshots are related vaguely and can be read as stand alone fics. I'm also now accepting prompts and ideas for more interactions. No promises I'll do them all but I need some way to get my creativity flowing!

Everyone knows that strange things happen at night. Something about the way the Underground somehow darkened to comply with the sleeping monsters. Or maybe it was just the way night worked in general. No one really cared to speculate to hard on the topic. It was just a natural occurrence. Sans felt the energy of the night in his bones, at least, that’s what he sometimes told people when they found out he rarely slept at night. It went over easier than explaining his nightmares and the thoughts that buzzed in his skull looking for release.

Many nights he’d just sit in his room and stare at a wall or write some thoughts down if they were particularly loud. They weren’t things he’d ever show someone or things he really ever looked back on later. The thoughts just need to be removed. He had been scribbling away in his notebook late one evening when there was that distinctive creak outside his door. He counts the seconds and when the next one came he relaxes. Frisk was awake and going downstairs. Only they made such gentle footsteps on the creaky old floorboards.

He ponders what they were doing up. A glance at the clock told him it was quarter past 3 am, no time for a kid to be awake. The clinking of glass from downstairs told him they were in the kitchen. Maybe they just needed a drink… He stands and pads across the carpet of his room and slips out his door. The light in the kitchen is on, confirming his thoughts. Might as well join them for a bit, hadn’t had the chance recently to talk with the kid one-on-one.

He maneuvers down the stairs and rounded the corner. But stops abruptly at the sight before him.

Frisk stands in front of the microwave, nuking what looks like a plate of cookies for a few seconds. Around them, shadows move unnaturally, jittering about and glitching. He hears static with every dark shifting fragment, soft but engulfing nonetheless. Fear hits Sans like a crashing tide and he would have rushed forward and dragged Frisk and Papyrus out of the house if the kid hadn’t suddenly giggled. The sound was soft but high pitched, familiar to the short comedian as one of the few sounds they made. A happy sound. The microwave dings once and they pop open the door, grabbing the hot plate with a pot holder and moving to sit at the table, where a glass of milk waited.

He draws back into the darkness of the living room and watches as the shadows follow, static wavering ever so slightly in tone but ever remaining. Frisk popped a cookie into their mouth and hums with contentment. With the sweet treat in their mouth, their hands move into action.

“These are so good! You should try one.” His eye sockets widen to the point of painful at the sight. Did Frisk see him? No, they would have acknowledged him. He looks around wildly, magic coursing through him as he searches for an intruder. But nobody was there. Frisk hums again as they take another bite out of the cookie and sign in reply to no one.

“Are you sure you can’t come out? These won’t last forever,” The longer Sans watched the more he began to realize. Whenever Frisk signed, the shadows would still, focusing around the child like they were paying attention. Every time they finished signing, they would watch the wall directly across from them, eyes flitting to and fro like they were watching something move. Was… was Frisk talking to the shadow? It would make sense as to why it was there and wasn’t hurting them but… how?

One thought after the next flashes in his mind from things absurd to actual possibilities. _are they using magic? no, maybe this is just a weird dream…_ A voice, one that had been silent for so long, whispered in his head through the invasion of thought. _what if it’s him?_

Sans recoils, taking a step back from the scene but thankfully not bumping into anything that could cause a racket. The sheer thought that it could be _him_ of all monsters was the most absurd thing to ever come to mind. And yet...

_He remembers the photo album, nestled safely in the basement drawer. A poorly drawn picture of three figures. “Don’t forget.”_

He sees Frisk signing again but his head's to full to decipher those all too familiar symbols.

_The badge still glistens, polished but never worn. The machine under the tarp is broken, no one could fix it, never to be fixed. He’s gone._

Through the fog in his mind he finds a focus on the kid’s hands. What are they saying? He needs to figure this-

“I’ll leave one for you for later, okay Gaster?” He collapses against the coffee table, causing a racket that makes Frisk squeak and the to static burst suddenly. The kid rushes out of the kitchen and is by his side in an instant, hands doing quick work in helping him up and steadying him. The numbness of what he just saw makes his body hard to control. He’s semi-aware that the shadow is gone.

Frisk helps him onto the couch, checking over his legs like a nurse, seeing if he scratched them at all in his fall. Satisfied that his legs aren’t too banged up, they pat his knee lightly, looking relieved.

“Are you okay, Sans?” Their hands are swift but legible. Sans grunts and nods, pressing the heel of his hand to his temple to push away the headache he can feel forming. To much just happened in too short an amount of time. The formation of the letters in the kid’s hands is burned into his memory. God, how did they know that name?

“-sure? Did you hit the table in the dark?” He’s drawn back to Frisk’s hands and he nods again.

“yea, ‘m just half sleep is all…” Frisk nods, leaning back and smiling softly at him. “uh, hey kiddo. were you, uh, talkin’ to someone? thought I saw your hands movin’.” He inclines his head towards the kitchen and the kid stills before shaking their head lightly.

“No, I was just thinking with my hands,” Frisk glances around discreetly but he notices. He knows their hiding the fact that they had been talking to that… shadow? He doesn’t want to think about it and he doesn’t ask. He stands, coordination having returned, and pets the kid’s head, ruffling their fluffy hair.

“alright then. i’m gonna get a drink and head to bed,” He pulls away and gestures over his shoulder to the stairs. “wanna keep me from fallin’ down the stairs?” Frisk giggles, that sweet relaxed sound, and nods. Sans grabs a glass of water from the kitchen, while discreetly slipping a beer into his jacket. He needed a drink after all this. As he exits the kitchen, he notices the singular cookie left on the plate but doesn’t do anything about it besides put Frisk’s milk glass in the sink and flips the light off as he exits. Frisk helps him up the steps, small hand against his back to steady him.

When they reach his room, Frisk hugs him good night and scampers off towards their own. He waits until he hears their bedroom door click to enter his own.

The rest of the night he sits quietly besides the door, listening to the natural aches of the house until the dark lifts and everyone is released from its magic. Frisk never left their room, he knows, and neither did Papyrus. Yet when he ventures down to the kitchen before everyone wakes up so he can dispose of his beer can, he sees the cookie is gone from the plate.


End file.
